First Night Nerves (Baat go leuiyan, yat toi hei)

FIRST NIGHT NERVES (Baat go leuiyan, yat toi hei)        C+                  

Hong Kong  China  (100 mi)  2018 ‘Scope  d:  Stanley Kwan

It’s been 15 years since the last Stanley Kwan film played in Chicago, when Everlasting Regret (Changhen ge) (2005) played at the Chicago International Film Festival with the director present, creating a love letter to the city of Shanghai, claiming the city was in such a rapid state of transition that it was very hard to find any locations left of Old Shanghai, shooting most of his film indoors at just a few selected sites.  Known for exploring the changing roles of women, shifting views on sexuality, and a postcolonial identity of Hong Kong, Kwan is Asia’s first openly gay director, where his best earlier works are literary adaptions of female writers, all previously shot on 35mm, notable for having a luminous quality with lush, bright colors and a heavily romanticized view, specializing in lurid stories of fallen women, told in dramatic fashion, showing great empathy for both women and their performances, helping to usher in the hyper-sensualized era of Wong Kar-wai in Hong Kong films.  Premiering at the 10th Asian Pop-Up Film Festival, run by the unflappable and highly energetic Sophia Wong Boccio, this film couldn’t be more radically different than his earlier films, largely because it’s shot on digital, which flattens out the picture while eliminating the richness of detail, bleaching the color out, making it look overly sanitized, overlit and brightened as if in a drug store.  While this is fairly typical of what films of today look like, as if made to be seen on television, it’s nonetheless a major disappointment, as Kwan’s films were beautifully subjective immersive experiences.  On top of that, this is a pretty silly story, like a gossip-fueled soap opera about a petulant younger generation that thinks only of itself, having little or no connection with history, yet living in extravagant wealth, revealing a sense of entitlement and ingratitude.  Made a year before the prolonged street demonstrations and protests of 2019 in Hong Kong, courageously standing up to the police, triggered by changes in laws that restricted longstanding freedoms, eroding the one country, two systems principle in practice since the 1997 handover, with Hong Kong openly defying the repressive tactics of the Mainland to force Hong Kong to capitulate, yet there’s no sign of that here, offering little insight into the current mindset of political dissent, painting a different picture altogether of shortsightedness and the small-minded pettiness of people today.  While Kwan has never had his pulse on politics, he has had a grasp of history, showing great insight into the connections between Shanghai and Hong Kong, with the film industry moving to Hong Kong after the Japanese invasion and occupation in the 30’s, yet here Shanghai is just a distant memory.  Instead the film explores Hong Kong’s tenuous relationship with Beijing, suggesting the future of the Hong Kong film industry depends upon it, with Kwan introducing LGBT themes and characters in a conventional drama, embracing controversial elements as commonplace in a dizzyingly scatterbrained comedy/farce/drama that might be difficult for Beijing to accept. 

Devising a story entirely consisting of women, where men are simply unnecessary, Madame Cong (Angie Chiu), the matriarch of a wealthy Shanghainese family in Hong Kong, is financing the production of a new play in Hong Kong’s illustrious City Hall entitled Two Sisters, written by a trans woman Ouyang An (Kam Kwok-leung), who is personally resentful that she’s not fully accepted as a woman by her colleagues, even after gender reassignment surgery, starring legendary actress Yuan Xiuling (Sammi Cheng), making a comeback after a 5-year retirement from the theater, and He Yuwen (Gigi Leung), a TV actress making her stage debut.  While the story is ostensibly about a stage performance opening in a week, pitting rival actresses that have a longstanding history, with buried resentments rising to the surface, as nearly everything that we see happens backstage or behind the scenes, with the two actresses refusing to acknowledge or even speak to each other.  While the younger He Yuwen openly undermines her counterpart at every opportunity, apparently having some hidden agenda, like living under her rival’s shadow since they started out with the same acting instructor, she continually interrupts rehearsals with spontaneous banquet festivities, where instead of being onstage she’s constantly treating herself (and a party of friends) to sumptuous gourmet dishes accompanied by glasses of wine, seemingly making herself look important by flouting her wealth to win influence and favor.  Yuan Xiuling is not amused, feeling Yuwen has slept her way to the top, but is especially frosty when her filthy rich, lesbian girlfriend wannabe Fu Sha (Bai Baihe) joins in the festivities, ruffling her feathers, as if sabotaging her on the set.  Their relationship is a bit mysterious, as it began with Fu Sha as a pre-teen adoring fan showering praise on the older actress, developing into a longstanding friendship, with the adoring fan always wanting something more, while the actress has been jolted by the death of her husband, Cheng Jun, and while it happened a year ago, she’s still suffering the emotional and economic aftereffects, as he was the younger brother of Madame Cong, but also a serial womanizer, dying in a plane crash with one of his girlfriends, making her the subject of tabloid fodder.  Yuan Xiuling seems to require peace and quiet to get away from it all, with her husband leaving her nothing, finding herself broke, learning how to scrape by, while He Yuwen has turned rehearsals into a circus atmosphere filled with fawning admirers, drawing attention to herself, where she wants all the attention.  Complaining to Madame Cong that her lines are significantly less than Xiuling’s, she has devised a rewrite plan using a successful screenwriter to alter the script, in her favor, of course.  But when Madame Cong mentions this to Ouyang An, in typical melodramatic fashion, strains of an operatic aria can be heard in the background with the playwright calling for air, suddenly feeling faint, collapsing with a heart attack and immediately sent to the hospital.  Yuwen’s brazen insolence becomes the theatrical pinnacle of drama and jealousy, nearly bringing the entire production to a halt. 

Early Kwan films emphasized the dangers of tabloid journalism, delving into the personal life of a leading actress, hounding her mercilessly, revealing how it led to the suicide of silent film star Ruan Langyu in Center Stage (Yuen Ling-yuk) (1991), while here the entire drama centers around incessant gossip happening behind the scenes, creating a kind of screwball comedy melodrama, using rumors and backstabbing as a conventional means of communication, occasionally drifting into hysteria, accentuating the role of a rabid gossip reporter who follows the lifestyles of showbiz personalities as if her life depended upon it, but with little essentially to laugh about.  It’s ironic that the same subject that was viewed with moral condescension decades ago has now become the centerpiece of Kwan’s new work, as if reflecting a new normal, revealing a culture with a short attention span, spoiled by wealth, which allows individuals to incessantly pamper and indulge themselves with little thought for others.  At the same time, Kwan pokes fun at himself, continually evoking references to his earlier film Rouge (Yan zhi kou) (1988), as Yuwen apparently won the lead role over her rival, prompting Xiuling’s abrupt retirement, yet never turns this into a blood feud or catfight between the two women, as Xiuling remains overly reserved, as befitting her stature as a more mature woman, where the key to her success is aging gracefully.  Interestingly, viewers gain insight into both woman through their personal assistants, with Yilian (Catherine Chau), a single mom and former pool hall girl, used to the emotional histrionics of Yuwen, who is a born diva, but has been helped out by her when she was down and out in the past and wants to remain loyal, while Xiuling’s aide Nini (Qi Xi), a Mainlander relative of Cong, acknowledges that her position is one of privilege, each commiserating with one another, sympathetic of their counterparts, overly fortunate to be in their positions.  With a seemingly tacked on happy ending, matters resolve themselves with surprising ease.  Despite Kwan’s reputation for enhancing female performances, this is little more than a lighthearted TV drama filled with conventional stereotypes and precious little depth or insight into the human equation.  It’s hard to understand what drew him to the material, as there’s little empathy towards any of the characters, with no real performances of note, more than a little uncomfortable to watch, and no dramatic heft whatsoever.  Very few films could possibly succeed when driven by gossip alone, and this is no exception.  Even the money shot, with both actresses on a balcony overlooking Victoria Harbour in a sumptuous backdrop, wondering about the future of their industry, fails to register, as the material for this film is so slight, resembling a farce, perhaps meant to be funnier, but instead it’s just frenetically fast-paced dialogue that never really amounts to anything.  Kwan’s earlier film SHOWTIME (2010) premiered at the Venice Film Festival and was only released in Hong Kong, never screening anywhere else.  From one of the best directors to ever work in Hong Kong, this is a major step down, and a reflection of the flailing industry at the moment that he can’t work with better material, as reflected by a scene where Yuwen takes a taxi only to discover the driver is the former Hong Kong director that discovered her, revealing just how difficult things have gotten.  

Heartstone (Hjartasteinn)

 


Director Guðmundur Arnar Guðmundsson

HEARTSTONE (Hjartasteinn)                  B                    

Iceland  Denmark  (129 mi)  2016  ‘Scope  d:  Guðmundur Arnar Guðmundsson  

Official Website

A rather sprawling first-time feature film by a young Icelandic director, Guðmundur Arnar Guðmundsson, winner of the Q Award for Best Gay, LGBT-themed film, who previously made a series of award winning shorts, including ÁRTÚN, which won the Best Narrative short film at the Chicago Film Festival in 2014, focusing this time on the relationship of two 14-year old boys that have been friends since an early age, the more diminutive Thor (Baldur Einarsson), whose father is absent, the runt of the litter living at home with a single mother and two older sisters, and the taller Kristján (Blær Hinriksson), who is living with a physically abusive father.  No easy life for either of them, as the film provides intimate details about their lives growing up in a remote fishing village in Iceland.  Much of it spent outdoors in the rolling hills next to the sea, the boys are part of a generational hierarchy led by an older boy, Ginger (Sveinn Sigurbjörnsson), who is little more than a bully, running around with a group of enforcers where he continually picks on boys younger than him.  In an opening moment he can be seen shooting birds for the sheer pleasure of it, leaving them to rot afterwards.  This act is paralleled by another scene with the two boys hanging with a group their own age, where they are singling out a certain fish, bullrouts, calling them ugly, and then stomping them to death, creating a pervasive mood of meaningless aggression.  These seemingly tiny acts are contrasted by the largesse of the Icelandic landscape, beautifully captured by cinematographer Sturla Brandth Grøvlen, as looming out the window or off in the distance is a unique mix of mountains meeting the sea, where the harshness of the land seems to mirror the temperament of the older men, who tend to be stubborn, gruff, and at times painfully cruel.  No one represents this more than Kristján’s abusive father, Sigurdur (Sveinn Ólafur Gunnarsson), who terrorizes his wife and family, where his mean streak is a sign of his masculinity, in his eyes, as nothing ever comes easy, where you have to work your fingers to the bone just to survive this heartless world.  

Thor and Kristján have it different, as they have each other’s backs and have been best friends forever, where if you ever see one of them, the other is likely to be with him, as they are an inseparable pair, spending all their time together.  Their parents don’t seem to mind, as that’s less they have to look after, as the boys can seemingly take care of themselves, always off on some adventure, heading for the hills and faraway corners of the region, idly exploring something around town, hanging out with others, chasing after farm animals, or just generally following their curiosity, where they have plenty of time to talk about anything at all.  At home, Thor is surrounded by the presence of strong women, something he can’t fully appreciate, as his older sister Hafdís (Rán Ragnarsdóttir) recites dark and melancholic poetry at morning breakfast, where the more outspoken middle sister Rakel (Jónína Þórdís Karlsdóttir) tells her to just shoot herself already and get it over with.  All three gang up on their mother Hulda (Nína Dögg Filippusdóttir) when she has designs on a man, as the general consensus is she’s better off without them, but if truth be told, they don’t get a vote.  Hulda remains young and attractive, especially for the region, where one of the neighbors, Sven (Søren Malling), has a thing for her, handing Thor a necklace to give to his mother, something he wouldn’t be caught dead doing, instead giving it to his own girlfriend Beta (Diljá Valsdóttir) as a sign of going steady, while her less attractive girlfriend Hanna (Katla Njálsdóttir) has designs on Kristján, but only because she thinks she’s supposed to, as there’s no real chemistry between them.  Nonetheless they constantly double date, have their first kiss, spend time alone, even try sex, with Beta kind of pushing the action with Thor, which he willingly follows, while Kristján, who is tall and attractive, does his best not to be impolite to Hanna.

The interest in the girls eventually changes the dynamic between both boys, especially when Kristján playfully plants a kiss on Thor’s mouth, trying to pretend that it’s meaningless, a harmless joke, but it’s clear there’s more behind it, sending both into a tailspin of avoidance, where a mysterious gulf comes between them, neither one able to verbalize what they’re thinking, where a cloud continues to silently hang over both of them.  As if to test their mettle, Sigurdur decides to take these boys on an ominous mission, hiking quite a ways before they reach the edge of a steep cliff, where one boy will be lowered by rope on a harness to collect eggs from the vertical sea stacks, that appear like high-rise apartments stacked up on top of one another in the high cliffs rising out of the sea, with thousands of swarming birds living in the cracks on the rocks, a dangerous and life-threatening mission for men at any age, but for boys, it foolishly and deliberately risks their lives, with Sigurdur asking Thor to take the trek, almost as if that’s one way to get rid of him.  While it’s spectacular imagery, anyone who’s ever witnessed one of these bird sanctuaries realizes how foolhardy this must be, but if anything, it only brings the two boys closer together afterwards, as it’s a harrowing, near-death experience.  Perhaps in shame, that he could never carry off such a risky maneuver himself, Kristján, in an impulsive moment, apparently tries to shoot himself, but miraculously survives.  After returning home from extensive hospital care in Reykjavík, his family refuses to allow Thor anywhere near their son.  There’s a price to be paid in small towns for close friendships, as people in town gossip and carry on as if they have nothing better to do, where these two boys are taunted and tormented, even shunned by those their own age, including the two girls, who refuse to speak to them.  With Kristján secluded offscreen, where Thor has to wonder what in the hell he did to deserve being exiled in his own community, the emotional anguish and social isolation is overwhelming, as there is literally nothing he can do to change people’s opinions, reminiscent of that early scene where a fish was singled out and labeled ugly before it was stomped to death.  People grow up harboring ugly thoughts about anyone or anything that’s different, where especially in small towns, it can drive some kids to suicide.  The poetic finale is filled with the turmoil of confusion and anger, yet plays out with a unique tenderness that is an essential thread throughout every friendship.  Showing great attention to detail, the film plays out in a languorous pace, which doesn’t seem to fit the more adrenaline-paced world of kids this age, yet the detached overall manner adds a timeless, near omniscient view, as if the mountains and oceans and souls of the dead are all observing from a distance.